


The Immortal Face

by Kye_Kreole



Series: Olivarry Week 2018 [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry is Thanatos, Blood, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Olivarry Week 2018, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 10:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15313524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kye_Kreole/pseuds/Kye_Kreole
Summary: Oliver's family was killed, so Oliver gets revenge.He did not expect to fall in love with Death.





	The Immortal Face

Oliver remembered the first time he’d seen the god of death.

He’d killed for the first time. The man had murdered his family so Oliver took it upon himself to avenge them. He had unloaded arrow after arrow into the man’s chest until there were no more in his quiver.

When Oliver came out of his vengeful trance he was kneeling on the stone floor of the home he was in. the man’s blood had pooled under him and wet his knees. He stared at the body, the white clothes stained red, skin grey, and his eyes were open and dull.

It was as he stared that Oliver saw him. A shadow barely discernible even in the bright light of the day, brown hair straight and flat, skin a soft cream color, and his face half covered in terrible scars.

The shadow looked up at Oliver from the body. Oliver saw that where the scarred eye was a milky hue, the other was a bright green. Oliver couldn’t look away from his exquisite features.

“Go,” the shadow whispered then looked back to the body.

Then he faded into shadow until it no longer existed. He was gone.

Oliver stood and ran. He sailed back to his family’s small island where the grand mansion stood empty, the sea wind dancing through the open spaces.

Alone. He was alone now. He’d spent months training and searching; every day was another step closer to vengeance.

Now he had nothing to drive him forward to the next day.

He fell to his hands and knees and finally let his sadness go. Tears streamed from his eyes like rivers. Memories of his family flashed in his mind’s eye; his sister screaming with joy as they sailed around the island together, his mother humming as she worked at the loom, his father teaching him the proper way to wield a sword or shoot an arrow.

His sorrow overtook him and he slumped to the floor, crying until he fell asleep.

* * *

His sleep was surprisingly peaceful full of dreams of the sun shining on the sea as he and his family sailed towards the horizon. The spray of water cooled his sun-kissed skin and filled the air around them with rainbows worthy of the goddess, Iris.

A hand touched the skin of his back and he turned. Standing beside him was a tall long male form, lean muscles corded his arms and defined his chest and stomach, brown hair swept across his forehead. His features were soft but strong. His head turned and Oliver saw the scars covering one side of his face. Oliver knew he should cringe in fear, but instead, he leaned forward and closed his eyes as their lips met.

Oliver woke suddenly. He could still feel the hot sun and cool sea breeze. He could still taste the salt from the spray. He could still see the scarred face.

That beautiful face. He felt drawn to the man in the shadow. A man he didn’t know but felt a great pull towards. Oliver didn’t understand where the pull came from, but it urged him to find the man again. It pushed him to stand and prepare to go out and search for him. But how.

How to find a man in shadow who appeared when a man died.

Perhaps another death.

* * *

Many more deaths.

Oliver had spent a year killing. He found traitors, criminals, scum of the earth people and killed them. Then he would kneel beside their bodies and wait.

Sometimes it was just a shadow that swept over the body just as the last breath was released.

Sometimes he would catch a glimpse of the man. A hand. A bare chest. A scarred face. Each glimpse urged Oliver forward. At each glimpse, he would try to speak, to call out, but the man would fade back into shadow and would disappear before Oliver uttered a word.

It took a year before Oliver realized the identity of the shadow. He reprimanded himself for his stupidity. How could he have been so obtuse?

So, he planned his next kill very carefully. A senator who took pleasure in eating human flesh.

Ten arrows were embedded in his chest and his blood pooled on pristine floors. Oliver knelt in the blood, eyes searching, waiting for the shadow.

The dying man’s breath became shallow and the shadow appeared and formed into a hand.

“Thanatos,” Oliver said.

The hand paused over the man’s face. Then shadows coalesced until the whole of the man was kneeling beside the body.

“It is you,” Oliver whispered and smiled.

Thanatos’ eyes looked him over.

“You wish to speak to me?” the god asked.

Oliver couldn’t speak. His voice was beautiful, smooth like the steel on Oliver’s sword. He merely nodded. Thanatos turned his gaze back to the choking man.

“Meet me on the shore. I must deliver his soul to Charon.”

Oliver nodded again and Thanatos disappeared into his shadow. The man choked his last breath out.

* * *

Oliver listened to the waves. Growing up, the sound had always calmed him to sleep. He tried to let it calm him as he waited.

He didn’t know when the god arrived until a hand touched his shoulder. He turned and saw him, pale skin shining in the moonlight. His scars were more prominent in the light, shadows making them seem deeper. He stood dressed in leather armor and a black chiton around his waist.

Oliver couldn’t help but stare at the exposed skin and muscles. No scars besides the one covering half of his face. His arms and legs were tight with lean muscle. Oliver was clearly broader but he knew that the slight frame of the god merely masked raw power lying beneath the surface.

“You wished to speak?” Thanatos asked.

Oliver’s gaze snapped up to his face. The face that had filled his dreams. The face he saw every time he closed his eyes. The face he had been searching for.

He fell to his knee and bowed his head.

“Lord Thanatos, I have been searching for you.”

“So, it would appear,” Thanatos sighed. “Why?”

Oliver lifted his head to look at his beautiful face.

“Ever since I first saw you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you.”

“Facing Death himself tends to do that to mortals,” Thanatos replied deadpan.

“No,” Oliver insisted, “not like that.”

He stood and looked at the god’s confused expression directly.

“Ever since I first saw you, I have seen you in all my dreams.” Oliver swallowed, then continued. “I have dreamed of sailing with you. I have dreamed of holding you, of touching you.”

Thanatos’ breath hitched. Oliver took a step forward and raised his hand to hover above the scarred face.

“I dreamed of us together in every way imaginable. I’ve dreamt of you being soft and caring. Or you being demanding and rough. I’ve dreamt of you being pliant to my touch or rebellious under my hand. I can’t stop seeing you. I can’t stop wanting you.”

To say the god was shocked was an understatement. The confusion pervaded his stance, his gaze.

“Why would you dream of me like that?” he asked.

“You are beautiful,” Oliver replied. His hand lightly touched the scar, not wanting to hurt or scare him.

The god wasn’t scared. He leaned into the touch. His eyes closed and his breath caught as if it was the first time he’d ever been touched by anyone. Perhaps he never had.

“Do not play tricks on me,” Thanatos softly commanded.

“No tricks,” Oliver promised. “I wish nothing more than to be yours and you to be mine.”

Thanatos opened his eyes and raised a hand to Oliver’s.

“I’ve never had someone wish to be mine, god or mortal.”

“Then they are all fools,” Oliver stated with so much conviction.

“Or you are the fool,” Thanatos whispered. He took a step closer to Oliver.

“Then make me your fool.” Oliver lifted his other hand to cup the god’s face.

Thanatos placed his hands at Oliver’s waist. He searched his face for any sign of lying.

“Would you become immortal for me?”

“I would be anything for you,” Oliver answered.

Thanatos pulled him closer. The first kiss was cautious, testing the new feeling. They separated for a breath then Oliver surged forward. The next kisses were passionate, desperate and full of promises.

Promises of the future. An eternity of each other.


End file.
